A port in the Feisi Kingdom.
Waves rolled beneath a blue sky over a blue sea, but the people's spirits were nowhere near as bright as the colors of sky and sea.
Ahead lay boundless water. Behind them, their homeland grew ever more distant. Before long, the people on the pier dwindled into tiny figures, then vanished from sight.
Many stood aboard the departing ships and could not help turning to look back. As they watched the port recede, even the priests, usually more detached than ordinary people, felt a sense of desolation.
Had it not been for the war, who would have willingly left a place where they had lived for so long?
"Once we leave, will we ever be able to return?" someone in the crowd suddenly murmured.
Those who heard felt sorrow well up within them. Indeed, if the fighting here continued without end, would any of them ever be able to return?
Even great priests above the fifteenth level enjoyed only a somewhat longer lifespan. Given enough time, perhaps they truly would never return.
How many of those present could reach the fifteenth level and become great priests?
Even if the Feisi Kingdom's civil strife ended many years later, they would probably have put down deep roots in another distant land by then. Leaving again would mean yet another sorrowful farewell.
Who said priests did not love their homeland? It was simply that, as priests, they bore heavier burdens. Their bodies, minds, lives, and even their freedom did not belong to them. They had pledged their souls and accepted their deity as their master.
All their actions had to follow their deity's will. Even in death, even if they were buried in the depths of Hell, they had to keep moving forward for the Temple's interests.